


Just Deserts

by Elleth



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Food, Gap Filler, Gen, Mild Humor, Page 534, Payback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7055815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/pseuds/Elleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About that squirrel dinner...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Deserts

**Author's Note:**

> Mikkel wasn't alone when he cooked that, and there was no way the other two didn't see what happend, right? Right.

"Bet you five cookies he'll do it." 

Next to Tuuri, Reynir swallowed on an empty stomach. He eyed the dead squirrel in their returning scout's hand and weighed his odds. Tuuri knew her cousin better than Reynir did, but cookies were a rare treat, dealt out by Mikkel for jobs well done. The temptation was there. Mikkel was right there to guard against it if Lalli tried, with his eyes closed and not listening as he stirred the dinner, but he was right there. And not even -

"- not even Lalli would do th-" 

"Deal?" Tuuri looked like she was sure she'd win this, her eyes wide and bright. She made a grab for Reynir's hand.

Lalli was making a beeline into their general direction. 

"Deal." 

Reynir shook Tuuri's hand. Lalli could still go past. He might just. Reynir remembered his childhood, before Grettir had gone too old, fat and lazy and still used to hunt around the farmstead to return with little gifts of un-rashed mice and rats from the stables, or small birds from the surrounding fields. If they were lucky, they'd be left on the doorstep in one piece. If they weren't, choice parts would end up on the carpets, in boots, and on one memorable occasion, the middle of his parents' bed. 

Even A-Grade cats were still cats.

And as much as Reynir tried to tell himself that Lalli was a human being - Lalli had a lot of cat-like behaviours. The hissing not least. Now, apparently, also the hunting of small mammals.

The squirrel might be a reconciliation gift for Emil. Or Lalli might take it into his den under Tuuri's bed and eat it raw. 

"Could he at least - you know, clean it?"

"Watch." Tuuri wasn't listening. She was eyeing Mikkel's broad back turn toward them when Sigrun started yelling inquiries about dinner from the other side of the cat-tank where she was training with Emil. " _Watch._ " Her hands clapped over the lower half of her face and muffled the "eee" teakettle noise that she sometimes made.

"Splish!"

The squirrel went into the pot head-first, fur and all. 

Lalli strolled past them, looking pleased, and Reynir could have sworn he shared a grin with Tuuri. A grin that was hidden under the collar of his scout-gear, but the devious look in his eyes matched his cousin's. 

He strode around the edge of the tank and out of sight, unperturbed. 

"Y-you -" Reynir opened his mouth and breathed down the feeling of betrayal, and the impulse to let his stomach climb out of his mouth and run screaming at the prospect of what was for dinner. "- did you plan this? You _tricked_ me?" 

Come to think of it, Tuuri had been laughing an awful lot while she'd consulted with Lalli earlier that day. It had looked like they'd been plotting something more than just the road, but without knowing Finnish, Reynir hadn't been able to tell just what they'd been talking about, and Tuuri had brushed off his questions as Lalli being in a good mood from the easy scouting jobs, now that they'd left Copenhagen and weren't bound to run into trolls at every corner. It had seemed innocuous enough.

Now she was grinning at him. "You owe me five cookies."

"But - but - okay. They're in a box under Emil's bed; I only have five. But - _why_?!!!"

Tuuri was still stifling giggles, and leaned close. "Ah, n-no offense, it's just - Lalli is addicted to them. He stole Mikkel's stash once, before you showed up, and since then Mikkel has been keeping them hidden away somewhere. Even Lalli hasn't been able to find them. I promised him I'd split the shares. I'm sorry, this was the only way!"

"But what about dinner?!" 

"Don't worry." Tuuri patted his arm. "There's no way Mikkel won't notice a dead squirrel. He'll throw it out and give it to Kisu, she'll be happy about it. And it's not rashed; he'll just boil the rest long enough until all the nasty stuff has gone away. He's a medic! He knows that sort of thing." 

"I guess… okay?" Reynir watched as Tuuri climbed to her feet and went after Lalli, probably to congratulate him on a successful scam and secure the fruits of their labour. He almost couldn't bring himself to leave, not after the telltale _splish_ of something large-ish being dumped back into the pot, just as Reynir turned back to look. Mikkel evaded his eyes and tried far too hard to appear innocent as he stirred. 

An idea dawned on Reynir, and he leapt up. Behind him, Mikkel breathed a sigh of relief. 

He went after the Finns and found them seated on the bunk room floor, getting crumbs over his mattress. "Tuuri? Tuuri. Y-you were right, Mikkel just tossed it out and said he caught it soon enough for the stew to not be spoiled. You can eat it just fine." 

Reynir tried a smile and hoped it looked convincing rather than nasty. 

He felt like apologizing for the lie. But she'd said it herself, it wouldn't harm her. 

* * *

A half-hour later, Tuuri eyed him suspiciously when Reynir and Mikkel both refused dinner, but she ate, and even tried to smile when Sigrun smacked her shoulder. Sigrun complemented the game-y flavour of the stew and thrust her bowl at Mikkel for a second helping even though the stuff was already cooling into sludge. Lalli spent more time distrustfully poking at a strange clump on his spoon than eating. Reynir wasn't sure just what it was, but it looked at least partially like matted fur. 

His grumbling stomach and bad conscience were made worth it by the look on Tuuri's face when Mikkel hid a smile and divided the last spoonful of the stew between the two Finns. It seemed all the same to Lalli; he didn't look like he cared just what he was eating any longer after he'd concluded that no troll was going to jump out of his food. Tuuri was going paler by the minute even though she only picked out bits of carrot to eat and dumped the rest of it on the ground for Kisa, who lapped it up without complaint.

Two things happened that none of them had expected: Emil, who'd been eating listlessly, exhausted from the push-ups Sigrun had made him do, could scream like a girl, and (although none of them could make him tell what he'd found in his dinner even after he'd stopped shaking) flung his bowl away from himself in disgust with an aim that at least one god must have guided.

It hit Lalli smack in the face.


End file.
